


Quit Acting so Seally

by twentysomethingwerewolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Apparently something like this happened with Pixies once, BAMF Stiles, Beta Derek Hale, Derek is kidnapped, Forever, Like, M/M, Monterey, Roadtrip, Selkies, Stiles is on hold, The IRS is the DEVIL, True Alpha Scott McCall, irs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:43:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentysomethingwerewolf/pseuds/twentysomethingwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is having an awful day. His bank account is $700 overdrawn and he's been on hold for like, four hours, with the IRS. Oh yeah: and Derek Hale has been kidnapped. Again. </p><p>Must be a Thursday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quit Acting so Seally

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic. Be gentle.
> 
> :P

"I just got an alert from the bank that your account is overdrawn by seven hundred dollars," Sheriff Stilinski said in lieu of knocking as he entered Stiles’ room. 

"Ha ha, very funny," Stiles deadpanned in a voice that intoned just exactly how unfunny he thought his dad was being from his bed, putting his hands above the covers where his dad could see them. "Dad. Dad. I dont even get into that bank account. Try another one next time." Stiles put the screen to his laptop back up and looked up at his dad again. 

"What's up?" He asked, after a moment, when his dad's expression did not change. 

"Stiles," his dad intoned, presenting his cell phone screen for his son to look at. "I just got an alert. From the bank. That your bank account is overdrawn by seven hundred dollars." He repeated once more, slower, the lines in his face deep with displeasure. "Now let's try this again."

"What the hell?!" Stiles jumped up from his bed and grabbed at the phone, touching the refresh button as though that would make the account read in the positive again. "I don’t even use this account!"

The last few summers Stiles had worked part time jobs between the school years to save up for when he moved out of the house. He put money in, never took anything out, and never really put too much thought into the matter further than that. It was a non-issue in his mind. A non-issue, no problem, no brainer kind of situation. He never checked his bank account because he knew that other than the three summers prior where he had deposited his checks directly into the bank account, there was no other activity. 

Except apparently, there was. 

"It says 'government,' what the hell is this?"

The Sheriff scowled at the obscenity but Stiles was eighteen now, and besides, after the harpy incident, the Sheriff had agreed with his son that if he was old enough to help hold together the torn flesh of a werewolf's chest while he healed, he was certainly old enough to curse in stressful situations. 

This wasn't life or death or anything, but seven hundred dollars overdrawn was not the sort of crisis that Stiles was used to. His priorities. 

"Call and find out," his dad said. "I was just giving you a heads up before I head into work." The sheriff plucked his phone from Stiles fingers. "Take care of this, Stiles."

Stiles was still racking his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when his own phone started buzzing. He picked it up and saw that it was an email alert, the same one that his dad had, but that while he had been asleep he had also missed fifteen phone calls and had ten unread new text messages, all from Derek Freaking Hale. The texts had become increasingly worrisome, starting with a curt why are you not picking up your phone!? and ending with a simple please. 

Stiles cursed again and threw a button up on over the shirt he had slept in, slipped his shoes into his sneakers without bothering to unlace them, and bolted for the door, an apple in his mouth and his cell phone pressed to his ear. 

"Come on you dick," Stiles said around a mouth full of food. As he started his Jeep, his call went straight to Derek's voicemail for the third time in a row. "Fifteen missed calls with no voicemail telling me what the issue is? You're a dick, Derek Hale. I'm coming to your loft now. You better not be dead. So help me God I won’t even help clean your blood out of the floors to help Isaac get the deposit back and he will need it, that boy cannot afford to take care of himself, you hear me? Isaac will be desolate and your deposit will go to waste and I won’t lift a finger to help!" Stiles hung up and threw the phone into the seat beside him, using one hand to cup his throbbing forehead while he drove with the other. This was not how he had wanted to start his day. He had wanted to start it by waking up slowly. He had considered having some quality alone time with himself. Maybe put his imagination to good use. The point was, today was one of the few days before finals that Stiles had to himself and he had planned on using it to take care of some feelings. Derek shaped feelings. In his bed. Alone. 

Apparently he had to actually go out and take care of the Incredible Sulk himself instead. Angels cried and his libido wept at the irony of it all. 

"Don't worry, baby," he told his penis, patting his crotch once in solidarity with his boner. "I'll go out after we take care of everything and buy you some lube. No lotion for you tonight. We're going to get all slicked up. It'll be a mess. I'll buy the nice, expensive kind too..." Which brought him back around to money. He needed to figure out what was going on with his bank account before he worried about his spank account. With a heavy sigh, he reached for his phone and called the number on the back of his card, wondering if it was too much to hope that he could resolve the issue before he got to the loft. 

"Hello? Hi. This is Stilinski. I'm calling about my bank account? It's showing I'm overdrawn seven hundred. Stilinski. Stilinski. S-T-I- oh, my first name? G-E..."

*  
*  
*  
"And to be honest with you, I don't give a FUCK, I'm telling you I didn't authorize it!"

Stiles pulled up to the loft and Scott came down from the entry way.  
"Fine, I will call them, but don't think for a second that I won't be filing a complaint against you today. I trusted your institution with my money and you- you hung up on me." Stiles blinked, pulling the phone away from his face just as Scott reached his window. Stiles looked up at him, face flushed and eyes wide. "She hung up on me!" 

"Well yeah, dude, could hear you screaming at her from two blocks away, I'd hang up on you too. What gives?"

"Well my dad woke me up to tell me my bank account was overdrawn by seven hundred dollars and then I had all these missed calls from Derek and - wait, why are you here?" Stiles glared. "Did you come over to help and he didn't even bother to send me a text message to call me off because I had plans today, alright? That's low, even for him. The least he could do is answer my calls to let me know you were here."

Scott frowned. "He called you?" 

"Yeah, didn't he call you-" Stiles knew the look that Scott was giving him. It was the worried look. Scott was happy and cheerful most of the time, so to see him with his worried puppy-eyed expression meant trouble. "Oh shit. Derek's missing, isn't he?"

"Isaac called me over. Derek hasn't been home in three days and Isaac was getting worried because his phone was turned off."

"Well, it is now, but he called me a bunch, so it couldn't have been dead." Stiles heart lurched. "Derek's not dead." He said, scoffing. "He is probably just heeding the call of the wild, you know, stretching the old gams. Going on a camping trip. He'll probably bring back like, a giant stag and we'll eat venison all summer and get totally sick of it. I know you, Scott. Always down to chow down on good 'ol Bambi. You weirdo."

"Then what did he call you for?"

Stiles paused. "He needs my help tying Bambi to the roof of the Camaro? I don't know. Its been three years and I still can't get inside that dude’s head."

Stiles got out of the car and he and Scott walked up to the loft, where Isaac was sitting at the breakfast bar, phone pressed his ear. 

"Hey Stiles. Yes, Stiles is here now. No, Stiles hasn't heard from Derek - wait, have you heard from Derek, Stiles?"

"Yeah, he left me like a million text messages and I missed a bunch of his calls, but he didn't leave a voicemail at all," Stiles put down his bag by the door but didn't kick off his shoes. If Sourwolf couldn't be bothered to not leave a voicemail when he goes missing then Stiles would track all the dirt through the house that he wanted. Plus, he liked the idea of Derek on his hands and knees. Cleaning. Or, you know, anything else. 

He has a complicated relationship with Derek, okay? He kinda hates the guy, totally respects him, and his dick is completely gone on him. Seriously. There have been chafing issues. 

"Is that Cora? Let me talk to her," Stiles said, making grabby hands for Isaac's phone. "Yo! Cora. What's happening?"

"Derek missed our Skype date," she said, sounding much more worried than Stiles would have predicted. 

"That's a thing? A thing that Derek does?"

"Yeah, he said he didn't want to lose contact with me."

God, Derek had such strong family values. That was literally the most adorable thing Stiles had heard that week. What an asshole.

"Fuck that's cute."

Cora scoffed. "Right? So anyways he was like, really into it, and insisted that I keep it up, and it’s not always easy to get a good internet connection. It's not like I'm in New York, I'm in the fucking jungle, I can’t always get service."

"Oh, you left Brazil? How is South America treating you?"

"It’s too humid and there are snakes and bugs everywhere. You'd fit right in."

"I'll be sure to visit. So Derek missed the date?" Who the fuck even has Skype dates with their siblings? God, what even was Derek Hale?

"Yeah and after all the crap he gave me, to just miss it?You're all I have left, Cora, You're important to me, Cora, I just want to see your face,Cora," she pantomimed her older brother. She even added a little growl at the end. "So I call and his phone is off, so I call Isaac because I am pissed."

"Understandably."

"And Isaac hasn't seen him in three days!"

Stiles turned to Isaac. "Doesn't he just... disappear sometimes?"

Isaac shrugged. "Well, yeah, but he always tells me when he'll be home. A few days ago he said he was going out to Monterey, but I haven't heard from him since. It's not like him to not at least check in."

"And he would definitely call," Cora chimed in. 

"Wait, what's in Monterey?"

"Girlfriend?" Isaac suggested. Stiles could literally feel the blood draining from his face. 

"Don't tease Stiles like that," Cora said from the phone by his ear. Freaky werewolf hearing. 

"Oh my God," Stiles face grew warm. 

"You know that Stiles wants the D," she continued, mockingly. 

"Oh my God!"

"Besides," Scott chimed in with a fucking smirk. "You heard Derek. He's swearing off girls. Funny, he didn't say anything about guys though."

"OH MY GOD you are all the worst friends ever. Our friend is missing, can you lay off?"

Chagrined, they stopped teasing Stiles. 

"So what's the plan? Head down to Monterey, ask around?" Scott asked. 

"Only if you guys kick in for gas. I can't afford this shit, my bank account is overdrawn by seven hundred dollars and apparently I have to call the IRS to take care of it because my bank sees it as a valid charge!" Stiles groaned. "I'm a good citizen. I pay my taxes. I want to help save the environment and educate our children. Children are the fucking future, I'm really into that! So why is this happening?"

"Have fun!" Isaac said, seeming much less concerned than he should have been. 

"Hell no, you aren't getting out of this, Cujo. I need your super sniffer."

Isaac frowned looking like an Anne Geddes picture. His life, seriously. "Use Scott, you know I get car sick."

"We need all the help we can get, and it's better to go in with more back up. Remember the pixies?"

There was a collective shudder. 

"What pixies?" Cora asked gleefully. 

"We'll call you if we hear anything."

"No seriously, what pixies?"

"Bye Cora!" Stiles hung up on her, still snarling for answers. 

Scott agreed. "You're the better tracker of the two of us. Plus, you know Derek's smell better."

Isaac smirked. "I bet Stiles knows it even better than I do," he said, going for the obvious jab. 

"I'd certainly like to," Stiles agreed empathetically, "But as much as I want to I have not climbed him like a tree."

"What's stopping you?"

"Right now? He's missing. Plus, I'm out of lube. I need to buy lube. And I can’t because my bank account is overdrawn by seven hundred dollars. My life sucks, now let's go."

"Dude," Scott said as Isaac locked the apartment. "I don't want to hear about your lube problems." 

"And yet you talked to me about being afraid of werewolf marrying Allison with your magical dick." Stiles eyes darted down, then back up again. "Do you think Derek has a knot? How much lube do you think I'd need to take it?"

"Dude!" Scott looked terrified. 

"This is a legitimate problem Scott! My lube funds are limited! I'll have to stick to lotion! Lotion! And I've only got that Johnson and Johnson shit. Sure, my dick is as soft as a baby's bottom but it has a very particular scent that makes me think of baby baths and infants. I don't want to think of baby baths and infants if Derek Hale ever decides to get all up in this!" He gestured to himself pointedly, making careful sure to wiggle his eyebrows and make vogue hands around his face. 

"DUDE!"

"Shut up and get in the damn car." Isaac said, getting in the front passenger seat. 

"I called perpetual shotgun three years ago, get in the back seat." Scott demanded. 

"What? Stiles couldn't even DRIVE three years ago, he got the car for his birthday!"

"That's how perpetual my shotgun calling was!"

Stiles started the car and pulled out his phone while the werewolves duked it out over who got to sit in the front seat. 

"Scott, you always sit in the front seat."

"I'm the Alpha."

"That didn't work when Derek did it and it doesn't work now!" 

"So?"

"So I will throw up all over you if I have to sit in the back seat for three hours."

"Guys!" Stiles barked, getting their attention. "I am on the phone. Scott just let him have it, he'll whine the whole way if we don’t."

"Who are you on the phone with?" Scott asked, hearing the hold music. 

"The IRS. Can you move it? I'd like to get to Monterey before noon."

"That hold music is terrible."

"They took all of my money, Scott, there's a lot of things that are terrible about this." He put the phone on speaker in his cup holder. "Anyone need to use the bathroom?" He asked with saccharine-sweet sarcasm. 

Slowly, from the back seat, Scott raised his hand. 

"Seriously?"

"It's a three hour drive," Scott shrugged. "Better now than in Fresno."

And Stiles could not argue with that. 

*  
*  
*  
Nor could he argue thirty minutes later when Isaac started shaking his leg. 

"Seriously?!"

"I didn't have to go back home," Isaac said. "Just pull over, I’ll go on the side of the road."

"Oh my God, it's like you were raised by actual wolves," Stiles said, taking a turn off. 

"Ha ha, that joke never gets old."

*  
*  
*

"Check in with Cora, see if she's heard anything yet," Stiles told Scott. 

"You check in with Cora," he said, clearly on the verge of being lulled to sleep by the car. 

Stiles purposefully aimed for a pothole in the road. He knew his shocks were shit. 

"I'm still on hold, I can’t use my phone, and Isaac’s already asleep."

Seriously, that dude could sleep through anything. How did he not wake up from that pot hole stunt Stiles had just pulled?

"Just call them back..." Scott complained, getting as horizontal as the back seat would allow.

"I have been on hold for almost an hour now, Scott, I am not hanging up now. It's the principle of the thing."

"They haven't even checked in with you, are you sure anyone there is even working?"

"It's a government agency, Scott, what do you think?"

 

*  
*  
*

"I need to go to the bathroom again," Scott said sometime around hour two and Stiles shot him a withering glare. 

"You can just hold it until we get there."

On his phone, a computerized voice promised him that his call was very important, and asked him to continue to hold. 

*  
*  
*

"Are we there yet?"

"I will shoot you full of wolfsbane bullets, don’t you even try to test me Sparky."

"Sparky?"

"The firedog?"

"Aren't the dog jokes getting a little old, Stiles?"

"What's the matter, am I getting you hot under the collar?"

The look Isaac gave him was positively withering. 

*  
*  
*

By the time that they reached the wharf Stiles decided that if Derek wasn't dead, Stiles was going to kill him himself. Either that or he would make Derek wait on hold with the IRS. Actually, definitely the latter of the two. It was more of a punishment. 'Longer than average hold times,' the female, computerized voice kept telling him. The hell with that, no one was picking up! It had been three hours! 

Taking his phone off of speaker, he cradled it between his shoulder and his cheek. "Alright, so let's split up. Isaac, you take the city, Scott and I will take the wharf. Do you need like, Derek's underwear or something to help sniff him out?"

Isaac looked ill. "What the hell? No! And why do you have Derek's underwear?"

"I don't, but do you think he would give me a pair if I said that I needed it to be able to hunt him down when he goes missing?"

"No," Scott and Isaac said at the same time. 

"You two are just going to hang out at the wharf all day while I do all the work," Isaac complained. 

"What? No!"

"Then why aren't you two splitting up?"

"Because how can I be in contact with you if Scott doesn't let you know where we are?"

"Use your own phone!"

"I can’t, I'm still. On. Hold." Stiles gritted out between clenched teeth. 

"Stiles, just hang up. You can deal with the IRS later."

"No! I can’t! They took money from me Scott! The money I worked hard to earn! I demand it back!"

"Chill out, man."

"I will not chill out - wait, is that Derek's car?"

Across the parking lot, three separate tickets under the wiper blades, the camaro sat, empty and forlorn. 

Isaac and Scott both sniffed the air and they all jaywalked over to where it sat next to an unpaid parking meter. From another direction, a tow truck came rolling in. 

"Shit, I think they're here for Derek's car." Stiles said, and Isaac inhaled. "Quick, do you have the keys?"

Isaac scoffed. "Derek doesn’t trust anyone with the keys to this thing, you think he'd give me a pair?"

"Can you hot wire it?"

"This is not grand theft auto, Stiles, I can’t just - oh hey, officer, how's it going?"

A policewoman approached, scowling fiercely. "Is this your car?" She demanded. 

"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed before Scott or Isaac could say anything. "Yes, I know, we left it here too long. Um. God, how long has it been sitting out here?"

"Since Thursday," she frowned. "May I see your ID?"

"Sure thing Officer..." Stiles peered at her name badge. "Ramirez."

Scott and Isaac looked suspicious, and as he reached for his wallet, someone from the IRS picked up. "How may we be of assistance today?"

Stiles balked, open mouth. "Seriously?" He asked, disbelieving. "No, no. Hi. My name is Stilinski, you pulled all the money from my account today and I didn't authorize a payment."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, I'll be more than happy to assist. May I have the correct spelling of your first and last name?"

"Who is he on the phone with?" The officer demanded, looking frustrated. 

"IRS," Scott answered. "They overdrafted his account by seven hundred dollars."

Officer Ramirez shook her head. "He should have paid his taxes."

"I did pay my taxes!" Stiles hissed. 

"Sir, your name?"

"Of course," Stiles said. "G-E-"

"This car is registered to a Derek Hale, not a... how do you even pronounce that first name?"

Stiles bit out his name in polish, and officer Ramirez tried to fit her mouth around the word. 

"I'm going to need to see some identification, gentlemen."

"I'm going to need one fucking minute, please."

"Sir?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stiles..." Scott warned. Isaac, the asshole, looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel from trying not to laugh. 

"I know it was a frustrating wait, but please don't use that kind of language with me. I am here to assist you, sir."

"The fuck you are!"

"I'm going to bring my supervisor on the line, please hold."

"Don’t you dare put me back on hold you-" Stiles blinked at his phone in shock. "She put me on hold!"

"Your identification, sir." Officer Ramirez demanded again. 

"Of course, officer," Stiles agreed, and cradled the phone in the nook of his shoulder and chin once again. In his ear, he was promised that his patience was appreciated. 

*  
*  
*

They didn't get the car back. 

Sitting in a diner by the pier, Stiles sipped woefully on water. "One of you two better buy me clam chowder in a bread bowl, or I will be liable to cut a bitch."

Scott flagged down a waitress. 

"Seriously, they still have you on hold?" Isaac asked, disbelieving. 

"Our taxpayer money hard at work," Stiles sneered. "So, did you pick up anything from the car, Duke?"

"That's reaching, isn't it?"

"No way. Duke was the bloodhound on the Beverly Hillbillies. Good old Duke. He was lazy, just like you."

"I'm not lazy," Isaac protested. "Wait, you watched the Beverly Hillbillies?"

"You didn't?"

"Yeah, I'll take a coke, and a clam chowder bread bowl," Scott ordered while Isaac and Stiles bickered. "And Isaac will have-"

"Bad tastes in TV shows and worse taste in jokes aside, no, I didn't get anything. Like Officer Ramirez said. It's been abandoned for days."

"Derek would never abandon his baby like that. He loves that car. Like, society isn't ready for that level of affection between and man and his preferred mode of transportation love."

"Gross." Isaac said. "Accurate, but gross."

"It's a beautiful thing. He'll be heartbroken when he finds out his baby was towed."

"If he's not dead."

There was a long silence between the three of them, punctuated only by the noise of their fellow patrons and the orchestra of the hold music. The chorus, in Stiles opinion, really swelled. It was growing on him. 

Like a fungus. 

"Will someone please try his cell phone again?" Stiles asked, and Scott did, but again, it went straight to voicemail. 

"Look, Derek's not dead," Isaac said, omitting the 'probably' Stiles could still feel lurking there. "In trouble? Maybe. Dead? Definitely not. So let's eat lunch and pick up again after. We know we're near the right place. His car was right there. We're going to find him."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, taking a sip of water to swallow down the beginning of a panic attack. His anxiety was heavy in his belly and it threatened to bubble out any second. He felt ill, like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Yeah, he's fine."

Their food arrived and they ate in silence. 

The chorus really was kind of catchy, Stiles thought, and only ate half his bread bowl. 

*  
*  
*

They decided to split up after all. Stiles promised Scott and Isaac that he would totally hang up and call them if there was any problem, and they would text him if they found anything. Stiles demanded the wharf, and Scott and Isaac let him have it. They decided to split up the motels in the neighborhood, to see if he had checked into any of the before he had vanished. They all agreed not to involve the police just yet, but Scott suggested that they ask Allison if she knew about any hunter activity in the area. 

"Dude," Stiles said plaintively. "I'm judging you. This is what my face looks like when I judge you."

"Shut up man, I don't judge you about Derek."

"That is literally all you ever do!"

"Hey Allison," Scott said when she answered, his face going soft and happy. "Listen, have you heard anything about Monterey?"

"You guys suck," Stiles said. "Meet back at the jeep at 6 if we haven't found anything?" 

Isaac agreed. Scott was lost in Allisonland. Stiles knew that was no short trip for him, and didn't bother to try to get his attention. "Call if you need anything." Stiles said, and started at the front of the wharf. 

He went shop to shop, but no one had seen Derek. Stiles supposed he should have brought a picture, but the only ones he had either had that weird eye glow thing that all of the packs’ eyes did when they were photographed or they were from behind. Stiles smiled at the memory. What a behind. 

So he went shop to shop, interrogating the owners. After all, how many grumpy twenty somethings with a penchant for leather, an eternal scowl, way too much product in their hair, and a serial killer vibe could there be in Monterey?

Who was he kidding, it was a college town. There were tons. 

Stiles made his way to the end of the pier and sat with his legs over the edge, face pressed against the guard rail. The irony of it all was that he had intended to come out here next week to tour Monterey Peninsula College with his dad, but after today, he was beginning to think that maybe he wanted to stick closer to home anyway. Maybe check out Davis again. He could get a bike. He'd fit right in. And that was only about 45 minutes, and it did not reek of salt and fish the way the air here did. 

Davis would have less salt water taffy though. Stiles decided to continue to weigh his options. 

Peering down into the water, Stiles saw a flash of something gold looking up at him. 

"What?" He whispered, leaning further against the guardrail, trying to get a better look. "What is that?"

Stiles knew what it was. His best friends were all werewolves. He knew the gold-glow of their eyes, even as the water refracted off of it. Stiles stood, quickly, and stepped back. "Um, hey-" he said, wondering what in the world he was looking at. That water was freezing, he knew, and full of predators. Off in the distance, he heard the distressed baying of seals, but he paid them no mind. 

From the water, a soft nose poked out, and those gold eyes gleamed when they met Stiles. 

"Have you seen a werewolf around here? About this high, dark hair, dark glower, answers to sourwolf?" Stiles asked, hoping to God were-seals were a thing. Were-Lizards were a thing, so anything was possible. Otherwise, Stiles was just questioning a seal, and wouldn't that be embarrassing. 

The seal made no noise, but then pointed its head exaggeratedly towards a beach before diving under water and jettisoning towards it. 

"Oh, okay, cool," Stiles said, and listened to his phone. Still on hold. "Goddammit," he muttered, and looked at his phone, and then back out to the beach. He had promised to call with any information, but he'd already been on hold for so long, and besides, he may just be chasing an actual seal. Isaac and Scott would never let him live it down if he was. Stiles didn't even know if were-seals were a thing. When he checked his phone, Stiles saw that he had a missed text from Scott. He was about to check it when the seal bayed, head in the distance, staring at him pointedly. 

"Yes, yes, coming," he said and cradled the phone, finding an isolated area of the wharf to jump over and trek through the thick beach weeds over the rocky shoreline to where the seal was heading. 

The slope was difficult to navigate. The rocks on the shoreline were much less stable than he would have hoped for, but no one seemed to have noticed him yet. He could see the seal in the distance, in a sunny spot on the beach near a small cave, and Stiles hurried towards it recklessly. 

He was leading himself down a small cliff, phone pressed to his cheek, when someone's hand grabbed him around the ankle. Looking down, he saw a woman, nude and golden eyed, staring up at him gently. "You've come to find the werewolf?" She asked, voice sweet and melodious. 

"Uh, yes," Stiles said, focusing his eyes back on the cliff and away from the woman. He continued to lead himself down, foot under foot, hand under hand, until rocky sand was under his sneakers. The girl smelled so strongly of sea salt and fish that even he could smell it on her naked flesh with his human nose, and he wondered what it must smell like to Isaac or Scott or Derek. Derek. 

"His name is Derek, he's been missing since Thursday."

"What's that?" She asked, pointing to his phone. 

"Uh, it's my cell phone? I'm on hold. The IRS took money from my account by mistake. I'm waiting for someone's supervisor."

"Taxes?" She asked, brows drawn together. 

"Oh man, you really aren't from around here." Stiles avoid looking at her. "But clothes. Clothes are a thing. They are a thing and you should put some on. You're probably freezing."

"If I put on my skin, how can I speak to you?"

"I'm sorry what?" Stiles blinked, confused. 

"I know where your Alpha is."

"He's not my Alpha."

"He was an Alpha," she said sadly. "He is not the Alpha we need though. We need an Alpha."

"You lost me again?" 

"You will come," she said, decisively and grabbed his hand. "Come on!" 

"You know, my friends are going to be looking for me, I better just let you know. Wait for them here." Stiles said. The naked girl was beginning to freak him out. 

"No, now." She stamped her foot and when Stiles made no move to join her, she sighed. "Fine," she said, and looked somewhere behind him. Stiles heard a rock slip, but before he could turn around, a large piece of driftwood connected with the side of his face and he hit the ground hard. 

Groaning, Stiles rolled over and reached for his phone. Forget the IRS. He need back up. 

His hand had barely closed around the cell phone when something heavy and moist slipped over him, shrouding him in darkness. He blinked, confused, and felt for a seam. The slick, skin-like fabric had no give to it and impossibly, Stiles could not find the seal. 

Take him to the cove, Stiles heard, distantly. His phone was somewhere in the trap with him. He could see the light somewhere down by his feet but he was dizzy, so very dizzy, and as he reached for it he fell. Curled in the middle at his hips, he felt himself being dragged and then the splash of the ocean, followed by a deafening silence. It was moist and cold in the trap, and he muttered, "Let me out," meekly, before it became too difficult to speak, and then Stiles spoke no more. 

*  
*  
*  
Stiles came to slowly, and then all at once with a start. The hold music from his phone echoed in the cave where he was being held and he looked for it, arching his neck and back to see if it was just behind him. If he could reach his phone, he could call for help. 

"It's over there," he heard and turned so fast he was sure he gave himself whiplash. There, chained with rusty manacles, Derek stood against a wall. "You can't reach it."

"Oh my God, you asshole, where did you go? We were worried sick!"

"Sorry to worry you," Derek glowered and rattled his chains. "I was kind of tied up all weekend."

Stiles was absolutely certain he had a concussion. "That was weak," he said, laughing even more weakly before dissolving into a fit of coughing. 

"Your head stopped bleeding," Derek said, "but you were out for a long time."

"I didn't know you cared," Stiles said, leering up from where he was chained to a rock on the floor of the cave to Derek's naked chest. 

"You need a doctor." 

"You need some clothes, my god, did they kidnap you to turn you into their sex god or something? Jesus."

"You have a concussion." Derek said, monotone, even as the tips of his ears colored. 

"Your nipples are hard as rocks, dude."

There was no mistaking the blush Derek wore now. "Don't call me dude," he said as he glared at Stiles. "Where are the others? You weren't stupid enough to come alone, were you?"

"No, Scott and Isaac are here, but we split up-"

"Split up? Split up?" Derek snarled at Stiles, his wolf snapping forth from between his teeth. "This isn't Scooby Doo, Stiles! You don't split up, you are a pack! You don't stray! Haven't I told you a million times? A pack’s strength is in its numbers." Derek fought against his chains with renewed vigor, struggling until the flesh at his wrists tore. As fast as he could heal he tore his skin again, his snarls echoing in the vast cave. 

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked. "You can’t break those." If he could have, Derek would have been freed days ago. 

"We need to get to your phone. Isaac can help but Scott can’t come here. It's what they want. They're after -"

"Oh, you're awake. Excellent!" 

It was that same woman from the beach. As she approached, seals came in behind her. There was the sound of water lapping at stones, but as hard as he strained his ears, Stiles could not hear the sound of people, or even seagulls. How far out were they? If Derek howled, would Scott be able to hear it?

"What do you want with us?" Stiles asked forcing himself to remain calm. He knew though that Derek could certainly hear his heart racing. It probably echoed inside the cave walls. Stiles was certain he could hear it, too, if he focused. 

"With you? Nothing. I don't need a Beta or a," she looked Stiles up and down, a bit confused, "whatever you are."

"Why us, then?" 

"Oh because you're a pack! I can tell. This one is a wolf, and I had heard that Derek Hale was the Alpha many miles from here, but he was just a Beta," she pursed her lips in a pout. "But the things about Betas, you see, is that they always have an Alpha." She stepped near Stiles and inhaled deeply. "You're not a wolf, but you smell like one."

Stiles flashed his teeth in a sharp grin. "Thanks. I was wondering when all that dog shampoo would pay off."

There was no hesitation before she slapped him, whipping his head back and the sound of her skin hitting his reverberated in the cave. 

"Even a pup knows better than to be so disrespectful," she sneered. Stiles couldn't be sure with the the ringing in his head, but he thought he could hear Derek growling. He flexed his jaw and blinked hard, trying to clear the spots from his eyes. It was nice to know he cared. 

"Shame I'm not a puppy then," Stiles baited her, testing the words carefully. His mouth tasted like blood. "No Alpha to teach me better."

She stepped back, shocked. "No Alpha?" She asked, eyes wide. As if sensing her distress, a pup came up and leaned against her leg. From behind her in the cave, Stiles could see the dark shapes of seals in impossible positions. From out of the throats of the seals, human hands came forth, clawing the blubber away as though digging themselves out of shallow graves. Their human skin was pruned and dark and spotted, a poor caricature of the seal blubber they had previously worn.  
"What are you?" Stiles asked, even as she said, "You have to have an Alpha!"

"They're Selkies," Derek growled. 

"What the hell is a selky?" Stiles tried to remember anything from the bestiary that dealt with them, but even with the Hellmouth that Beacon Hills was, he didn't think that he would have to worry about freaky killer seal ladies. 

If he had known, he may have hoped to die kinda like this, but....

"Are you saying that there is no Alpha?" Her voice was hard and her eyes were cold. Stiles thought back to what Derek had said. Scott couldn't come here. Stiles did not know what the Selkies meant to do, but whatever it was, they needed an Alpha. 

Notching his head up, Stiles stared her defiantly in the eyes. "Derek here is it for me, you got it? He was a shitty Alpha, and he made a lot of shitty mistakes, but when it came down to the wire he sacrificed himself for his pack and I don't care if he doesn't have any ridiculous powers anymore, he's still an Alpha. Derek Hale is my Alpha."

"Touching," she sneered. One of the other selkies approached silently from behind and lay her hand on her shoulder. The sneer fell from her face, only for an instant, and she looked back behind her. "He has no powers," she said. 

"He is the same as our Bull," answered the selkie. "The human one said so. Our Bull sacrificed himself to save you, Imelda, and this sacrifice will bring him back. It will work. It has to work."

"No, what?" Stiles asked thrashing against his chains. "It won’t work! I dont even know what it is but it definitely won’t work. Didn't you just hear me? Shitty Alpha. Shitty friend. Only ever thinks about himself and never worries about his pack." The selkies said nothing, and one of them drew a long, curved blade. "What is that, man, no. No!" Stiles felt the skin at his wrist tear, but unlike Derek, it did not heal back immediately. Still, Stiles fought. "Don't do it, leave him alone!" 

The selkies in the cave began to hum, and the pups, too young to shed their seal skin barked along, just out of tune. 

"Stiles," Derek said, limp in his chains. Accepting.

Stiles shook his head, and glared. "Oh, fuck you. You don't get to be a martyr anymore, do you hear me? You unmitigated self sacrificing asshole!" Stiles punctuated each slur by pulling his arms against the chains. "Stop trying to be a goddamn hero!"

"Stiles," he said again, shaking his head as he lowered his chin to his chest. "Shut up."

The shadows cast shade across the planes of his face so that Stiles could not see his expression, but he could imagine it perfectly. 

The blade was presented to their captor - Imelda - and she held the curved blade delicately in her grasp. 

"It has to be you, Imelda." The older selkie reprimanded. "No hesitation. Bring us back our Bull. The colony is weak. Amiens should have never given himself up for you."

Imelda met Stiles eyes. How gold her eyes were; how they shone, even in the darkness. The selkies that surrounded her all had deep, fathomless brown eyes; but not hers. Was this a rite of passage, he wondered? Would her eyes turn muddy and dull when she plunged the blade into Derek's belly? Or had they been brown, and they had somehow been turned to gold?

"Please," Stiles begged. "I love him. Don't hurt him."

"I'm sorry," she cried weakly. "We won’t survive without Amiens and need the pelt of an Alpha to bring him back."

Stiles felt sick. They were going to make the girl skin Derek. 

"Is that what Amiens would want?" Stiles tried, desperate. "Your Alpha, your... Bull. Did he sacrifice himself so that you could be a murderer? Is this the life that he wanted for you?" 

Imelda's tear flowed freely as she faced her matriarch. 

"You are a selkie. Do not cry like a human," she was chastised. 

"Mom-"

The older selkie ripped the blade from Imelda's hand, claiming the weapon for her own. "Amiens wasted his life on you! You, who will not even kill one insignificant wolf to bring back your own father! I am ashamed of you!" Turning her back to her daughter, she stalked toward Derek. "I'll wrap my husband’s corpse in your skin and he will be born again." She told him, tracing the blade from his navel to neck. "Here."

"Don't kill him!" Stiles screamed breathlessly again. His eyes were wide and fixated on the scene. What was he going to tell Isaac and Scott? What was he going to tell Cora? What was he going to tell himself whenever he met his own hollow gaze in the mirror, knowing he was right there, knowing that he could have done something to stop it, knowing that if he had just been someone stronger, someone smarter, someone faster, someone else, that he could have saved Derek Hale's life? Derek raised his eyes to meet Stiles’ gaze and Stiles resolved that he would never have to do any of those things, because Derek Hale wasn't going to die.  
Not here. 

Not today. 

Somewhere in the cave, the sound of the hold music finally clicked off, and a man's voice filled the silence. "So sorry for that wait, thank you so much for your patience. This is Dan, how may I be of assistance?" 

The matriarch flinched violently as her eyes searched the cave for the intruder. "Who's there?!" She turned the blade away from Derek and deeper into the the cave. "Reveal yourself!"

Taking only an instant to steel himself, Stiles reached behind his body and grabbed his thumb, breaking it in one quick motion. 

"Uh, this is Dan? I'm Juliese's supervisor? How can I assist you?" 

Stiles slipped his manacle easily, and with on hand freed the other came loose as well. With his good hand, Stiles grabbed the chain of his manacle and began to spin it. The pups that had surrounded him scattered, barking in fear, and the matriarch tried to find the intruder, only to see that Stiles had freed himself. "You!" She hissed, teeth bared as her eyes flashed. 

"Me," Stiles agreed with a shrug, and flung the manacle forward. The chain wrapped twice around the blade of the knife and Stiles yanked it, hard, and it fell to the ground with a clatter somewhere behind him. In the darkness, the seals fled to the water, submerging themselves with loud splashes as they retreated. 

On the phone, Dan spoke again. "Hello sir? Are you on the line?" 

"I'll be with you in one minute, Dan," Stiles screamed loudly. "Just need to seal this deal and I will be right back with you."

"Is this really the time Stiles?!" Derek moaned from the wall. "Dont make stupid seal puns, run!"

"I don't need a knife to kill you," she advanced on him, menace dripping from her every movement. 

"What, you didn't think my joke was very seally?" Stiles asked, spinning the manacle like a mace again. "It's a good thing I wasn't looking for your seal of approval."

"She is going to murder you, get out of here!"

"Murder!? Murder?! I'm calling the police!"

"No no no no no wait, Dan! Don't hang up!" Stiles screamed, but the line went dead. "Son of a bitch."

"Your noncorporeal companion has abandoned you. What will you do now? You are only a human. You are inferior."

"You are talking too much." Stiles whipped the manacle at her neck. He had been aiming to have the chain wrap around her throat, and he missed. It connected with a solid thunk against her skull and she dropped, clutching her head. "Do you know how long I was on hold for?" Stiles asked. He pushed her to the ground and straddled her back, wrapping the chain around her neck and pulling it tightly. "Plus there's the whole trying to kill Derek thing, and man, don’t you bad guys ever meet up? Exchange notes? I may be human but I've faced a lot worse than you." He pulled the chain tighter. 

"Stiles," Derek beckoned from behind him. "She's unconscious."

Stiles didn't care. He wanted to see her dead. He wanted to look at the corpse of the woman who tried to take Derek from him and see her eyes bloated and empty. 

"Stiles!" Derek barked again, more firmly. 

Stiles looked up and saw Imelda approaching him, blade clutched loosely in her fingers. He'd kill her, too, if he had to. He'd do anything to keep Derek safe.

"Please," she said meekly. "I love her. Don't hurt her." 

In her gold eyes Stiles saw himself, and it terrified him. He dropped the manacle and Imelda's mother to the floor, unconscious and injured, but not dead. 

Stiles hadn't killed her. 

Imelda kneeled beside her mother and cradled her head, crying softly. "Thank you," she murmured like a mantra. "Thank you, thank you." 

From the pouch at her mother’s waist, Imelda withdrew a key, and gave it to Stiles. "Go. Take your Alpha and go now." Stiles took the key from Imelda and uncuffed himself, and then Derek. Derek immediately grasped Stiles’ hand, his veins turning black as he stole the pain Stiles hadn’t even been aware he'd been feeling. As soon as Derek released him he felt it though; his throbbing head, his broken hand. 

"You're an idiot," Derek growled, and said nothing further. 

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, and looked back at Imelda. "What are you going to do?" He asked her.  
She looked torn. "My father died rescuing me from strange men. They crushed his skull with their boots, but we managed to get his body away. He was the last Bull of our colony. He led us, and it will be a long time until our sons are old enough to take up his place."

"Why not you?" Stiles asked. "He died for you; you were his daughter. Why can't you do what needs to be done?"

She scoffed. "I couldn't even kill your wolf to save my colony. I am not fit to lead."

Derek approached her, slowly, and kneeled beside her. Their eyes met, Gold and Blue, and they glowed inhumanly in the darkness. They said nothing, did nothing, for long, quiet moments. Their breathing was in tandem and when Derek finally spoke, he spoke with conviction.

"If that man can call someone as useless as me his Alpha," Derek said, "then you are certainly good enough to lead as well."

"I am not strong like you."

"No; you are strong like you." Derek stood, and patted her shoulder. "Not everyone would have faced him to save someone like her."

Imelda looked down at her mother and said nothing. 

"Let's go, Stiles," Derek said, and walked towards the water. 

"How do we get out of here, anyway?" Stiles asked, looking at his phone. He had more than twenty missed text messages from Scott, ranging from Allison says there are selkies in the area, to Stiles the IRS isn't worth this answer your damn phone!

"How good are you at swimming?"

Stiles blinked at his phone mournfully. 

Today was the absolute worst. 

*  
*  
*

 

Derek stayed in Monterey just long enough to get his car out of the impound lot, which was long enough for Stiles to go to the emergency room to get checked out. He told the triage that he had fallen off of a cliff and they confirmed that he did have a concussion and a broken thumb and put him in a cast. Isaac and Scott signed the cast with deprecating, sly remarks about seals, the IRS, and a paw print. Stiles was so proud of them. 

Or maybe he was just high from the morphine. 

He really needed the street name for that stuff. 

Scott had let him use his phone to call his dad who, as the Sheriff, had received a frightened call about a young man with an unpronounceable name who had been about to be murdered while on hold with the IRS. He had not been pleased. The Sheriff didn't care that Stiles was 18 and legally an adult - he still grounded him until graduation day. 

Stiles was just happy he was finally home and in his own bed. 

Even if he did have to wait on hold again for the IRS to pick up the phone and return his money. 

He had been on his computer, his new cell phone on speaker beside him, when there was a knock on his door. 

"Come in!" Stiles said. 

"How are you doing?" Derek asked, and Stiles jumped. 

"Jesus! Warn a guy would 'ya?" Stiles paused. "Look at you. Using the door. Who house trained you? Do you think I could hire them to work on Isaac and Scott?" 

Derek rolled his eyes and flopped heavily in to the chair beside his bed. 

"Hey hey! Easy on the merchandise, Beethoven."

"The musical genius or the Saint Bernard?"

"What? The dog. Wait. Both. Didn't you play the cello or something?"

Derek rolled his eyes with his whole head. "You're an idiot. One hand typing?" He asked, looking at the computer screen. 

"I've got a lot of practice," Stiles leered, and turned the computer screen towards Derek. 

"You're looking at new colleges?"

"Well, I had been considering Monterey, but now I'm thinking I could do with a little less ocean and ocean-type monsters that dwell within. I can't be expected to save you every time we're near water."

Derek frowned. "You shouldn't have to save me at all. I'm your Alpha."

Stiles scoffed and got back on his computer. "Yeah. Right." 

"Hey, what were you even doing in Monterey, anyway?"

Derek ducked his head, looking anywhere but at Stiles. "I was checking out the apartments. Isaac had mentioned that you were pretty interested in going to Peninsula."

"So you were.... looking for apartments for me? Or for you?"

Derek didn't say anything for a long time but when Stiles looked up, he had not moved from the spot. Still staring at Stiles, still trying to figure him out after all these years. 

"I was looking for," Derek began, and then shook his head, and started again. "In the cave. You said I was your Alpha."

"Yeah, I thought it would help, I did not think that they were going to try to skin you for it." Stiles cocked his head, thoughtful. "By the way? Sorry about that."

"You said - a lot of things in the cave."

"Yeah well you know I was just trying to buy time."

"You said you loved me."

Stiles felt the warmth creep up his chest to his throat. Abort, abort, alarms rang in his head, but he played it off as cool as he could. "Yeah, well, I mean; you know."

"I don't." Derek leaned in on his knees, crowding Stiles against his bed. "Enlighten me," he said, quietly, in a voice that surpassed Stiles’ ears and went directly to his boner. Do not pass go; do not collect two hundred dollars. 

"Look, I've never made it a secret, OK? I think you're hot like fire but I also really respect you?" Stiles wasn't sure if it was the drugs or just that his feelings - the Derek shaped ones, okay? - were all finally coming to a head. "But if there could ever be some mutual orgasms involved in whatever this is-" Stiles gestured between them with his casted hand, "-That would be phenomenal. I would be completely on board with that."

"That's not love though," Derek's gaze was unblinking on Stiles. "And you said you loved me."

Stiles swallowed his fears and smiled. "Of course I love you, you idiot." He punched him playfully with his good hand and Derek caught it, and brought it to his mouth. Stiles thought Derek was going to kiss it - kiss him - but instead he pressed his nose to Stiles skin and inhaled, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathed in Stiles. 

"Derek, I-"

"Thank you for holding." A voice interrupted them. Stiles smothered a laugh while Derek glared, hard, at the phone, as though he could break it with a gaze. "My name is Sarah, how can I be of assistance today?"

Derek kept his eyes on Stiles as he picked up the phone and held it to his face. 

"Sarah?" Derek's eyes refocused, blue and hot, on Stiles. "He's going to have to call you back." Derek threw the phone behind him. 

"Hey I just bought that!" Stiles said, leaning back as Derek crawled over him. "You better not have broken it," he said as he hooked his casted arm around Derek's neck, pulling him closer. 

Derek ground his swollen cock against Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles’ body responded in kind, thrusting up against him with sinful friction. 

"I will buy you a new one," Derek growled, and before Stiles could say any of the thousand jibes that were ready to leap from his tongue, Derek slated his mouth over his, and there was - finally - blissful silence. 

Until Sarah informed them from speakerphone across the room that due to customer disconnect, the call was being released. 

Other than that though, everything was kind of perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr: twentysomethingwerewolf


End file.
